Saturday, October 3, 2015

Tuesdays -- to Eternity

Tuesdays with Morrie -- Playhouse on Park -- Through Oct 18

Gannon McHale and Chris Richards. All photos by Meredith Atkinson

Sometimes, less is more. Such is
the case with Playhouse on Park’s Tuesdays
with Morrie, a gentle, touching play that inexorably works its way into
your heart. Sensitively directed by Sasha Bratt, this adaptation of the memoir
by Mitch Albom eschews flash and spectacle to focus on a relationship between
two men, a teacher and a former student, that deals with the issues of death
and, more importantly, the issues of a life well lived.

Written by Albom and Jeffrey Hatcher,
the play chronicles meetings between Mitch (Chris Richards) and Morrie (Gannon
McHale), as Morrie slowly succumbs to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (Lou
Gehrig’s Disease). The two first met at BrandeisUniversity
when Mitch took a sociology course taught by Morrie (the name, in Hebrew,
relates to “my teacher’). Entranced and excited, Mitch eventually signed up for
every course Morrie taught and, upon graduation, swore that he would keep in
touch with “coach.”. He didn’t.

Sixteen years later, Mitch, who once
dreamed of being a jazz pianist, is now a driven sports journalist who just
happens to catch Morrie being interviewed by Ted Coppel on Nightline. Memories and guilt motivate Mitch to fly up to Boston to visit Morrie.
The first meeting is awkward, for Mitch has issues about dealing with those facing
the ultimate journey, but Morrie, who understands, among other things, the
healing power of touch (he dubs a kiss on the forehead “extra credit”), gets
Mitch to commit to weekly visits on Tuesdays.

What follows is an exploration of
friendship and shared humanity that, over the course of the one-act play, has
the power to make you embrace all of the possibilities life has to offer, even
as life comes to a close.

The set, designed by Christopher
Hoyt, is simplicity itself: strips of parquet flooring angle out stage right,
creating a saw-tooth design that is mirrored by the images on the back wall. The
only furniture on-stage: two chairs and a book-laden table, plus a piano set
extreme stage left. In the final moments of the play, a back wall opens and a
bed slides forward: Morrie’s last resting place. The scene ends and the bed
recedes into darkness bearing Morrie; it is a striking yet subtle evocation of
the passage into the unknown, a stirring image, enhanced by Aaron Hochheiser’s
lighting, that, opening night, evoked a palpable silence from the audience –
you could feel those watching bidding Morrie adieu, perhaps with some tears.

This is an intimate play
tailor-made for the venue, and Bratt has blocked scenes so that the emotions
generated by the two actors can be felt by all, house left, right and center.
And emotions there are aplenty. Richards gives a fine performance as a man
conflicted, drawn to Morrie yet committed to the demands of a twenty-four-seven
job. He has turned away from his heart’s desires and, in the process, lost part
of his soul. This is best captured in a touching scene in which Mitch’s wife, a
former singer, visits Morrie and sings for him (the wife is imagined). Morrie
asks her to sing for him…and she does. At this moment, Mitch realizes that he
has never really “heard” his wife, has never paused long enough in his hectic
career to listen to the song of her life.

As impressive as Richards’
performance is, it is overshadowed, and rightly so, by McHale’s portrayal of
Morrie. My play-going partner expressed it well when she commented: “What moved
me most were not only the tears that the last scene brought

to my eyes, but also the impulse I
had to get up out of my seat and help Morrie as

his struggle with the disease
increased. I was physically drawn to comfort him

more than once.” Such is the power
of McHale’s performance as he changes from a man eager to dance through life to
one whose every movement creates pain. It’s a full, rich performance, made even
more powerful by the theater’s physical intimacy.

Playhouse on Park is in its seventh year, and it continues to board productions that both move and, at times,
astound. This is an organization that can tackle the boisterous, energy-filled
demands of Hair and then stage an
intimate, soul-searching production such as Tuesdays
with Morrie. It’s a little theater with a big heart and a willingness to
accept challenges. One can only wonder what surprises await when, at the end of
this season, it stages. A Chorus Line.
I can only hope that it will be a singular sensation.

Tuesdays
with Morrie runs through Oct. 18. For tickets or more information call
860-523-5900, X10, or go to www.playhouseonpark.org